


Lost

by RandomStuff_7739



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - Handplates (Undertale), Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Death, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Monster Dust (Undertale), Oneshot, Sad Ending, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomStuff_7739/pseuds/RandomStuff_7739
Summary: In which 1-S loses everything.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 118





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Something short and sad, because that’s all I do nowadays.
> 
> I hope it’s alright :)

He had only brought one plate of food when he had come back.

“where’s my bro?”

Normally, he wouldn’t be very phased; this sort of thing happened often. But 1-S’ brother had been gone for nearly two days. He was worried for him—and honestly, he was afraid, as well. 

But He didn’t say anything. He only let out a quiet sigh, and set the plate down in front of him.

“where’s my brother?” 1-S demanded, louder this time. A bad feeling began to eat away at him from the inside, making him begin to tremble nervously. “why isn’t he back?”

“Stop,” He said, attempting to cut him off. “No more questi—”

_“where is he?!”_

He fell silent, looking back at 1-S from outside the beams. He didn’t look angry—he never did—He only sighed again and looked away, putting his hands in the pockets of the white coat he always wore.

1-S didn’t consider that he may have dreaded the answer.

“Subject Two has fallen down.”

1-S froze.

He looked at him with an empty expression, but 1-S could see his shoulders tremble slightly as he waited for a response.

He felt stuck.

His bones were frozen in place, his hands were stuck, curled up in fists, the twisting feeling in his chest was stuck in the most painful position, the sob in his throat was stuck, his smile—his _smile_ , that couldn’t even fall for the _death of his brother—_

“you’re lying.” 

“Excuse me?”

“you’re _lying,”_ he said, a bit louder, his words quiet and shaking. “you have to be lying. he isn’t—he can’t—”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“i don’t _know!”_ he cried out hopelessly, throwing his hands in the air. “i don’t know, it could be one of your sick tests, just to get some sort of reaction out of me—”

“I can show you,” He said, his voice so emotionless and steady that 1-S felt the sudden urge to strangle him.

“yeah,” he managed to choke out, “show me.”

The emptiness in His expression ebbed away slightly, just enough for 1-S to see a flash of regret; but then it was blank again, and He put his hand on the pad to deactivate the cell’s beams.

1-S jumped up and followed Him, his eye sockets dark as they walked through the hallway, silent other than the tapping of shoes and clicking of bone against the cold floor that 1-S had gotten so used to.

“what room is this? we’ve never been here before.”

He only sighed in response, placing his hand on the scanner to open the door.

1-S felt as if he had been punched in the chest, the sight knocking all the wind out of him. 

_no, no, nonono—_

He dashed over to his brother, leaving Him at the doorway. 2-P was lying on a bed, tucked carefully underneath a purple blanket. His eyesockets were closed, his chest barely moving. It was impossible to tell if he were breathing or not—and if bones could look pale, they certainly would be.

He nearly looked as if he were sleeping, but 1-S knew better than that.

“no,” he mumbled, his eyesocket beginning to flicker a dull mixture of grey and purple. “don’t—wake up, you can’t—don’t _leave_ —i can heal him—”

“It’s no use,” He said from the doorway. “He’s going to dust soon. He wouldn’t maintain a stable condition, even in the solution—it won’t be very long before he does.”

“can’t you do something about it?!” 1-S snapped bitterly, burning tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyesockets. “you’re the one who did this, you have to—you have to _try_ to fix him, you can’t just let him _dust—”_

“There’s no way to wake a fallen monster,” He muttered, looking away. Almost as if he wanted to avoid 1-S’ stare. “If there was one, I would have used it already.”

“but he—you can’t—he’s _all i have!”_ 1-S shouted, no longer caring about how desperate he sounded in front of Him. “he’s the only good thing i have down in this—this—he can’t just—you can’t just let him—”

1-S cut himself off, choking on a sob. He watched silently as 1-S bunched the purple cloth in his hands, quiet tears weakly rattling his bones.

Despite His words, 1-S’ eye began to glow a bright green in a hopeless attempt to heal. It wouldn’t work, he knew it wouldn’t—but he was too desperate to care about that. He stood next to his brother, healing with all his energy, tears falling so quickly that he couldn’t have stopped them if he tried.

His brother didn’t move, or respond, or do anything.

Instead, he began to dust, the fine grains slipping through 1-S’ fingers, covering his hands in the horrible grey substance and making him feel as if he couldn’t breathe.

“no,” he mumbled, his voice rising. “no, no—no! stop, don’t—”

1-S scrambled at the ashes in a panic, almost subconsciously trying to push them back together. 

He knew that it wouldn’t help in the slightest.

His brother was gone.

“Stop,” He said, almost sounding pained. “You’re scattering his dust everywhere.”

“this is all your fault!” 1-S cried, so loudly that it felt as if he were ripping his inexistent throat apart. “you killed him! he believed in you, he thought you could do better, and you _killed him!”_

“I know,” He said sharply, before seemingly forcing his tone back to normal. “I know I did.”

1-S wanted to do _something_ —to scream, to snap back at him—to attack him, even—but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything in response. 

All he could do was stare down at the dusty sheets, at the sickening teal-green hospital gown, and at the handplate that had previously been screwed onto his brother’s right hand.

The handplate.

He picked it up in his trembling hands, turning it over and running his phalanges over the strange shapes that were carved into the cold metal. They weren’t shapes that he recognized, or knew the meaning of.

But nonetheless, it was all he had left. 

And as much as he did hate the handplates, he couldn’t let Him get rid of it now.

“can you drill this into my hand?”

“I’m sorry?”

“you heard me,” he said, holding the handplate tighter. “i want you to drill this into my hand. like you did with the one i have already.”

He had expected him to say no. To tell him that it was ridiculous, that it was too dangerous because of his “condition”—that it was meaningless, that there was no point to it.

But instead, he fell silent. He didn’t attempt to shut down the conversation—and usually, when that happened, it either meant that he had won, or that He had elected to ignore him.

_“please,”_ he begged quietly, choking up again. He wiped his tears away, but it was no use—they kept coming. “it’s all i’ve got left of him. it’s all i’ve got left.”

He looked at him for a moment, still silent, but he sighed quietly and extended a hand.

“Give the plate to me.”

He froze, gripping it tighter, holding it close to his chest—a bit protectively. He took a step back, his eyesockets darkening; He just looked at him patiently, waiting.

“i’ll do anything,” he whimpered softly, trembling. “please, just—let me have this. please…”

“I can’t do what you asked if you don’t give it to me.”

1-S hesitated, still trembling, but eventually came forward, handing him the plate.

He took it. The feeling of the cold metal leaving his grasp stung more than he would’ve liked.

“I’m going to have to remove your current plate in order to screw in his,” He said, a bit quiet as he led him to the other room. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“yeah,” he mumbled, glancing at the floor as he walked. “why’re you so worried? you never asked us for anything else.”

He rolled his eyes slightly as he opened the door, motioning to the far too familiar table. 1-S glared back at him, his SOUL aching and his eyesockets dark as he climbed up onto it.

He hated how things could seem normal when he had just lost everything that had ever mattered to him.

He held still as He tightened the leather straps, holding him down onto the cold table. Even if he hadn’t wanted this, 1-S didn’t have the energy to fight against it—and he didn’t exactly have the willpower to do so, either. 

Maybe his brother had gone through this, as well, in his final conscious moments. 1-S could only hope that he would suffer the same fate.

He winced at the loud whirring of the drill, turning his head away and closing his eyes.

He couldn’t even bring himself to scream.


End file.
